


Crimson Death

by orphan_account



Category: Final Fantasy IV
Genre: Angst, Gen, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 18:59:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The elite Red Wings descend upon the nation of Mysidia with bloody intentions, while their commander wrestles with the guilt of what is about to happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crimson Death

**Author's Note:**

> A piece written some time ago, inspired by a fan cover of the Red Wings theme. Although I couldn't find the exact version that prompted me to write this all those years ago, I suggest you find a version you like and give it listen. May it, too, remind you of that fade-in over a formation of warships in flight...

## Crimson Death

Peter's feet hurt. He'd been on them all day, helping his mother with chores, and now the cobblestones of the street were making them ache. A bench seemed to call to him from the side of the road and he acquiesced, walking over and slowly sinking into it with a grateful sigh. As he sat, he pulled the wide-brimmed hat from his head and used it to fan his face. The hot midsummer sun had taken a lot out of him, and the young man felt sweat rolling down his face. For once, he wished he lived farther from the ocean and the resulting humidity. As he sat, his thoughts turned to the distant kingdom of Troia, which lay in the centre of a cool forested region. He smiled as he thought of himself making a little visit there someday. A moment later, he came back to reality and looked over the white stone buildings of Mysidia. In the distance, he could see the hill atop which sat the four-story building that served as the center for the city's government. It almost seemed to shine in the noonday sun.

_Then again,_ he thought, _I think I like it just fine right here._ He closed his eyes and reached out with senses other than the norm, stretching them towards the great building. After a moment of searching, he touched the crystal. The center of Mysidia, the beautiful crystal was one of the wonders of the world, and an immensely comforting presence, which was why the city had been built up around it.

The feeling of peace was shattered as a building less than four blocks away erupted in a violent explosion. Peter shot to his feet in alarm as people around him began to panic. A moment later, his sharp eyes picked out the bright flash of another building exploding.

"What's happening?" somebody screamed. 

"Look there!" someone else said. "Airships!" 

Peter turned in the direction the woman pointed and looked up into the sky. Sure enough, five shapes seemed to be descending from the heavens. Peter frowned and brought his left hand to his temple, his index and middle fingers pointed towards the distant specks. A moment later, his vision seemed to leave his body and rush towards them. As his sight grew closer, he began to make out more and more detail. The steel hulls. The rows of cannons. The massive propeller shafts. The bright slashes of red paint down the sides. As his vision grew even closer to the largest of the ships, he made out a name painted on the side: CRIMSON.

"Oh, gods," he whispered as cold fear took hold of him. "Those aren't just airships! That's the Red Wings!"

\------------------------ 

The deck shuddered beneath him as the _Crimson_ opened fire. Far below, a pair of flashes marked direct hits as buildings crumpled and people died. Cecil Harvey knew that the gunners deserved praise for such accuracy, but the thought of him congratulating the men for what they had just done was sickening.

Something else drew his attention. "Order the _Scarlet_ to correct her drift," he snapped. "She'll run us off course if she doesn't get a cannonball in the side first."

"Aye sir!" 

_Crimson. Scarlet. Ruby. Rose. Flame._ The five ships of the glorious Red Wings, all named after a shade of their namesake color. Oh, how heroic.

The _Scarlet_ corrected her drift and moved away from the _Crimson_ as the two sister ships, the _Ruby_ and the _Rose_ , opened fire simultaneously, hitting buildings close to the Capitol and collapsing them onto the access streets. A few more shots and the Mysidian government would be cut off from its own city. It was a strategy only the Red Wings were capable of carrying out. To use it like this disgusted Cecil.

The dark knight's gauntleted hand repeatedly opened and closed near the hilt of his sword as the _Flame_ opened fire from above them, her shots passing between the other ships to strike the city. As the parting shots hit, the smallest member of the Red Wings halted her descent and began a turn to port. While the _Crimson_ was on the ground and vulnerable, the _Flame_ would circle in the sky, a distant but nonetheless deadly adversary. Cecil's own ship continued to shed altitude, her course taking her towards the square in the center of the city. Cecil turned to his second-in-command, a dark-haired man of less than average height who somehow always found a way to look Cecil dead in the eyes. "Order the attack force to prepare to disembark," he said coldly.

"Sir!" the man said with a salute. He turned and quickly made his way aft. Cecil wasn't fooled. Underneath his rigid display of competence, his second was just as disturbed about this mission of murder as he was. Cecil turned back, watching the _Scarlet_ appear to rise, though he knew that in reality the other ship was only slowing while the _Crimson_ continued to drop. In a short while, the battleship would touch down and Cecil and his men would be on their own.

\----------------------------- 

The world had gone to hell. 

With the incessant humming of the airships circling in the sky, the watery feeling of his eyes as the smoke got to them, the stench of smoke and burning flesh, the sound of people screaming, Peter could think of little other explanation.

He made his way through the panicked throng, sometimes having to give up simple pushing and elbowing and resort to outright punching and kicking to get past some mobs.

"Use your magic!" he heard a man's voice shouting. "We are Mysidians! We may not have a military, but we have our magic!" Peter looked up the street to see a wild-eyed man of perhaps sixty or seventy years standing on a second-story balcony. Some of the people around him were starting to calm and listen to him. "They think we're beaten!" he screamed. "But we're not! Watch! Watch me!" The man began to raise his arms. As he did so, a breeze swept up the street towards him. Peter felt his robe flatten itself against his body. A whirlwind seemed to form around the man, and his long hair and beard seemed to be trying to take flight. Electricity began to crackle around his hands as a screaming sound began to ring-

-and without warning, the entire building exploded furiously as a shot from above slammed into it. The man vanished instantly, and the dozens of people that had rallied to him were swallowed by the fire. Even as far away as he was, Peter was knocked to the ground by the blast.

When he got to his feet, the street had become a canal of body parts. The gory scent of blood was so strong, the young man bent and retched. When he gathered the strength to look up, he only saw a single airship in the skies above. Was that the one that had taken out the defiant man? Or had it been a different one? Peter shook himself and suddenly began running, not out of the city, but deeper into it. He couldn't leave yet; he had to find his parents before he could leave. He lived only a few blocks from here, it wouldn't be far, and he would find them, and they would escape togeth-

He skidded to his knees. He stared in disbelief. His entire block smoldered. Cannon fire had hit it hard, shattering virtually every single building between him and the next crossing. One of those buildings was his house. He felt tears come, tears not caused by the smoke. He lost his strength and fell against the nearest structure, what had once been the corner of an inn. He cried.

His hand brushed a loose cobblestone and he gripped it tightly. 

\----------------------------- 

The crystal chamber was beautiful, made of marble and mirrored columns that caught the crystal's soft blue light and reflected it, creating a most peaceful atmosphere. Under better circumstances, Cecil might have been tempted to stay awhile and bathe in that blue glow. But now was not that time. He wanted to get out of Mysidia as quickly as possible, and his men didn't seem particularly enthused by the sight, either. Having lost two of their comrades to an overzealous mage, they stomped into the delicate room and spread out to form a protective wedge around their commander. The nine of them were faced down by an old man who looked like a city elder, a young woman dressed like a white mage, and a pair of hooded black mages. The black mages refused to back away from the oncoming soldiers, instead keeping ready stances on either side of the girl. As the group halted, Cecil looked her in the face and noticed a resemblance between her and the elder. He wondered if they were related.

No time for such things now. 

He took a deep breath to steel himself. "Give us the crystal of water," he said firmly.

"Why? What have we done to anger Baron?" the old man said defiantly. 

_Don't make me take the next step, old fool!_

"The crystal or your life!" he snapped. 

One of the black mages curled his hands into fists. "Never!" he shouted, his deep voice echoing harshly in the room.

_You damn, damn fools; you've made me do it._

"Men! Take it by force!" Cecil ordered. The soldiers moved forward, swords and shields ready. The two black mages backed off, dragging the girl with them. They halted at the base of the crystal's pedestal and took their stances, chanting in a harsh syllabic tongue as the edges of the formation came around to surround them. Cecil saw glimpses of fire and ice around their hands, but before they could finish their incantations, the soldiers struck. One of the mages lost his head to a broad stroke, the other attempted to dodge the blow and fell to the floor with his throat cut open nearly to his spine.

The girl looked at the two dead men and frantically rushed towards Cecil. "No, don't!" she shouted.

"Don't defy us!" the squad captain barked. As she attempted to run past him to get to Cecil, he spun and his metal shield banged against her temple, hard. She sprawled on the ground, bleeding from the strike. Cecil couldn't tell if she was alive or dead.

Two of the other soldiers grabbed the arms of the elder and tore him from the pedestal's stairs, throwing him to the floor before the dark knight. His earlier defiance had been shattered by the death of his – daughter? – niece? – sons? And now he was reduced to a terrified man surrounded by enemies. "Alright!" he said, his voice shaking. "Alright! Take the crystal!"

"You should have said it earlier," Cecil said coldly. 

_Damnation, do you think I wanted to kill her?_

He motioned to the squad captain, who promptly sheathed his sword, stepped forward, and hauled the old man up into the air, then pushed him to the wall of the chamber. Cecil stepped over the body of the young woman, past the dead mages, and climbed the stairs of the pedestal to the object so many people had been killed for.

The crystal was a simple piece of precious stone half the size of his forearm, yet the calming aura it exuded gave even him pause. It floated in the air, its faceted surface winking light at him as it rotated. A moment passed and he regained his senses, then reached out and grabbed it. He felt it settle into his hand without resistance and he stuffed it into a bag he had carried specifically for this purpose.

_Mission accomplished. And all it cost you was everything._

Cecil turned and descended from the pedestal, aware of the elder's eyes watching him. As he strode towards the exits, he heard the old man cry out- "Why is the king of Baron doing this?! Why do you pursue the crystals so eagerly?!"

Cecil hesitated. 

Then he motioned for his men to follow and walked out of the chamber without replying.

He said nothing as he led the group back the way they had come through the hall of the building, stopping only to pick up their dead comrades before exiting. Cecil squinted in the bright sunlight and the strong breeze coming from the spinning of Crimson's propellers. The massive airship waited on the ground, and Cecil could see both the _Ruby_ and the _Flame_ in the sky. As he looked, he saw white smoke blossom on the _Ruby's_ port side.

He wondered if Mysidia would ever recover from what they had done today. 

"Back to the ship, men," he ordered curtly. They began to double-time it towards the Crimson.

"Wait! Don't go!" a voice screamed. Startled, Cecil turned towards its source, one of the junctions between street and square. Standing atop the rubble was a blond young man who couldn't have been any more than twenty. Cecil saw something in his hand, but couldn't make it out from this distance. "Don't go!" the young man screamed a second time, and began to run towards the group. "You damned murderers!" he howled. "Damn you all to hell! Damned if you get away scot-free!"

The squad leader moved to place himself between the crazed young man and his commander. "I'll handle th-"

"No," Cecil said. 

"Sir?" 

Cecil kept his gaze locked on the onrushing young man as he handed the squad captain the crystal's bag. "I'll handle this. Get to the ship."

_You men are loyal. All I can do to reward you is spare you this guilt._

"Yes sir." The man ran towards the ship, and Cecil began to walk towards the young man, who was still running at him. Now, he could make out what it was the young man clutched. It was a brick. A gods-damned _brick_.

"I'll kill you, you bastard!" 

"Think so?" Cecil whispered. The coldness took hold of him even as he drew the black blade he carried. Darkness. As he held the blade, he felt his frustration, his anger, his sorrow, his disgust, and even his guilt fade away, until there was nothing in his world except the fast-approaching enemy. As the Mysidian came on, he suddenly hurled the brick. His aim was good, propelling the chunk of masonry right towards the head of the commander of the Red Wings. But it was not to be, as Darkness swept up and knocked the brick away with ease. The Mysidian came to arm's length and leapt, an unearthly howl coming from his throat. The dark knight sidestepped without effort and swung. Darkness clove the Mysidian in two, dropping him to the pavement. Efficiently, the dark knight retrieved a cloth and wiped Darkness clean, then sheathed the blade.

Cecil turned and began to walk back towards the ship. As he passed the young man, he glanced down and was startled to see him open his eye and glare at him. "You'll pay for this," the young man choked out. "Some...day..." The young man became still. Dead.

Shaken, Cecil quickly made his way back to the ship and up the gangplank taking the proffered bag as he did so. "Take us up," he ordered.

"Yes sir!" 

The _Crimson_ 's propellers thrummed faster and faster, and the mighty battleship lifted from the ground. The Red Wings formed up, the _Scarlet_ taking one parting shot at the city below as she came about to join the formation. 

"Heading, sir?"

_The edge of the gods-damned world. I'm going to drop us off and take the damned crystal with us, just to spite him._

"Baron," he ordered. "We're going home." He slung the bag around his torso, feeling the crystal's surfaces through the material.

_The crystal of water. Well, I hope it's worth your immortal soul._


End file.
